'Peace, Ensyl,' said Hercol, his voice close to breaking. 'They will use only their eyes.'

'Pazel,' said Chadfallow, looking at him sternly, 'how long have you known they were aboard?'

Pazel ignored the question. He stared at the bundle the doctor held against his chest. He could not move. He felt Hercol standing close behind him, frozen like himself. At last, trembling, Thasha put out her hand - careful not to touch the bloodstained cloths - and gently tugged the doctor's sleeve. Chadfallow lowered his arm.

Diadrelu lay there, pale and beautiful and dead, her neck wrapped in a crimson bandage. Chadfallow had washed the blood from her shoulders and her hands, which were folded across her breast. She had never looked more calm, more full of vision, although her eyes were closed. Pazel didn't know just when he started to cry, but he knew he had never cried like this in his lifetime. Louder, sure, for his lost family, for Ormael, but not with this despair, this sense of something that was both part of him and too good to be part of him, and at the same time something he'd built - trust, love, language - torn away and trampled, gone. He was pathetic. Sobbing in front of Chadfallow. But so was Thasha, her head on Pazel's shoulder; and so was Hercol, leaning upon the table, his sword cast aside. The three stood there, weeping, stripped naked by their grief. Chadfallow looked at Pazel with shock. It was as if he had just realised that the boy had stepped onto some other ship, swiftly departing, leaving him behind. The ixchel too stared, as the humans cried for their queen; and one of them, Pazel never learned which, spoke under his breath.

'She knew. She insisted. They are not all the same. We used to talk as if we owned them, owned their debt to us, their sins. We were fools, because she knew them alone.'

It was a strange party that ascended the ladderway. Hercol held Diadrelu to his chest, where she pa.s.sed for a thick bandage, hiding some wound. Ensyl and two other ixchel rode in the folds of his b.l.o.o.d.y shirt, and Thasha, Pazel and Chadfallow carried six more in similar fashion. Ensyl sent the remaining four off on foot, to contact whatever members of the clan remained loyal to Dri, and tell them who had slain her. How many will believe it? How many will believe it? Pazel thought. Pazel thought. A giant named Hercol was the only witness. A giant named Hercol was the only witness.

But another secret was out at last. Old Gangrune had seen to that. On every deck Pazel heard the gossip flying: It's not just the rats, it's crawlies too, they must be behind all this, they fed the rats something to make monsters of 'em all. It's not just the rats, it's crawlies too, they must be behind all this, they fed the rats something to make monsters of 'em all.

The men rushing to join the battle looked at the three climbing upward with contempt. 'Running off,' Pazel heard one sailor growl, 'just as we're getting the upper hand.'

It did appear that the humans were winning. The rats had not yet been driven from the orlop deck, but all those forwards of the main compartment were slain, and the Turachs were holding both cargo hatches. There was talk of a second outbreak at the stern of the orlop: rats in great numbers erupting from the manger, where the s.h.a.ggat Ness stood clutching the Nilstone. Sailors and Turachs were dying still, but the rats were dying faster. Doors slowed them down, and for all their ferocity they could not advance through a hail of Turach arrows, or a wall of spears.

If the crew could win back the orlop, Pazel mused, they could do the same with the mercy deck beneath it. But the hold? That was where the rats had lived all along. There were few doors and endless hiding places. Cable tiers, pump shafts, wing s.p.a.ces, vents. Tunnels in the sand ballast, gaps between casks and crates. Rose would surely resort to smoking them out, or using sulphur gas. And he had crawlies to kill as well now.

The middle decks were all but deserted. Outside the stateroom, even the lone Turach had been called off to join the battle. Thasha was startled to find herself momentarily stopped by the invisible wall; then she silently gave permission to the ixchel she carried (and the other six, and Dr Chadfallow) to pa.s.s through. Moments later the party was inside.

They laid Diadrelu on the bench under the windows, exactly where she had woken Thasha all those months ago. 'Taliktrum spoke the truth in one way,' said Ensyl. 'The rites must be observed. My mistress must be parcelled, and the parcels given to the sea. No peace will come to her if this is not done.'

'Is that why the nine of you are here?' said Pazel.

'To see it done, yes. But not to do it ourselves. That privilege belongs to her kin, and it is a mortal offence to deny them the same.'

'Even if they're the ones who killed her?' asked Thasha bitterly.

'Not in that case, no,' said Ensyl.

'I thank you with all my heart,' said Hercol, 'for keeping her safe. And you as well, Doctor. And I must thank Felthrup, last of all: he rose from his deathlike trance mere seconds after that beast Steldak killed my lady, as if a part of him sensed the crime. And perhaps it did at that. In any case, he flew at them in such a rage that they blundered towards my cell. It was only because of Felthrup that I was able to take her body from them.'

'Ensyl,' said Pazel, 'you realise the whole ship knows about your clan, now?'

'I do,' she said grimly.

'They'll have to come here too, won't they?' said Thasha. 'All six hundred. They won't be safe anywhere else.'

'Do not let them!' cried several ixchel at once. Ensyl agreed. 'You must not, m'lady. They do not deserve your protection.'

'Nor do they need it,' blurted a round-faced ixchel youth. Ensyl gave him a sharp look.

'No?' said Chadfallow, peering at him. 'How is that? What defences have the ixchel against giant rats and sulphur?'

'We are not permitted to speak of it,' said Ensyl quietly.

Hercol sighed. 'That phrase I have heard before. Very well, keep your secrets. It is time to return to battle.'

'You must not, Hercol,' said Ensyl with a strange urgency. 'The parcelling--'

'We will decide all that when the fighting's done,' said Chadfallow.

Ensyl shook her head. 'You don't understand, there's nothing to decide. And by the time the fighting ends it may be too late. You are her kin, Hercol Stanapeth. She chose you, and you her, and none of us who loved her dispute your right. The parcelling of her body must be done by your hand, and no other. The last one to touch her must be you.'

Thasha closed the makeshift curtain over the washroom doorway, leaving Hercol, Chadfallow and Ensyl alone with Diadrelu's body. Pazel turned away with a shudder. Chadfallow had just handed Hercol a scalpel: probably the one blade in Alifros he didn't know how to use.

Thasha went into her cabin, and emerged a moment later wearing her sword. Then she went straight to her father's crossed blades, mounted on the wall above his reading chair, and took one of them down. She thrust the scabbard awkwardly through Pazel's belt. 'We'll fix you a proper baldric later on,' she said. 'Right now I want to get out of here.'

They left the stateroom and made for the Silver Stair. Pazel tried not to think of what was happening in the washroom. Twenty-seven pieces. Twenty-seven pieces.

'It's blary cruel,' he said as they climbed the ladderway. 'To lose someone, and then have to do that that to her. I couldn't do it.' to her. I couldn't do it.'

Thasha spoke without turning. 'You could if you had to. If your honour depended on it. And . . . the other's.'

Yours? Pazel couldn't help thinking. Pazel couldn't help thinking. If we were ixchel, and you died, would they expect me . . . ? If we were ixchel, and you died, would they expect me . . . ? For a moment he thought he would be ill. For a moment he thought he would be ill.

On the main deck she turned to face him suddenly. 'What is it?' he said.

'Draw,' said Thasha, and whipped out her sword.

He drew. Thasha was already lunging. He blocked her strike and another followed. She chided him - 'Faster, faster faster!' with every cut and thrust. It was a one-minute drill, his first with a real sword, and he was afraid to go on the attack. What if he actually stabbed her? He found himself driven in circles, barely able to parry her blows. I'm hopeless, he thought, as the force of their clashing blades wrenched his arm.

'Stop!' said Thasha abruptly. 'Good! You've learned something. Those were fine parries.'

'Thanks,' said Pazel, amazed.

'Fine, but useless. Blocking won't stop these rats. You stab, or they bite you. Stab them first, Pazel. Every time.'

They took to the stairs again. 'And don't let your blade swing loose in your hand,' Thasha added. 'I made that mistake once with Hercol, and broke my thumb in the knuckle guard.'

'Ouch,' he said.

'Yes. Ouch. But it sure as Pitfire taught me to--Oh!'

She caught his arm. They were emerging onto the topdeck, for the first time in many hours. And everything around them was strange.

It was past sunset; the world should have been dark. Instead it glowed a fiery orange-red. They stepped into the chilly wind. Straight ahead of the Chathrand Chathrand, the Red Storm blazed across the sky, an unbroken wall of silent, softly boiling light. It was hard to tell just how big it was, and thus how far away - sixty miles, eighty? Whatever the distance, it was much closer than when the tarboys and Fegin had watched it at dawn.

But the storm was not the only wonder, or the worst. Roughly the same distance off the port beam, there was a lowering and twisting of clouds - and, Pazel realised with a sickening jolt, of the sea itself of the sea itself. A great, round expanse of ocean had become vaguely, but undeniably, concave, as if an invisible finger were pressing down on the dark blanket of the sea. The centre of the depression was beneath their line of sight. Above it, the clouds churned in a descending spiral.

'The Vortex,' Pazel said, 'that has to be the Nelluroq Vortex. O Bakru, Bakru! Call off your lions, save the ship.'

He had never meant the prayer more sincerely. For the last strange thing about the topdeck was how empty it was. Bow to stern, there could not have been more than thirty men at the sails. A few dozen more were flying up and down the deck, hauling the sheets, relaying orders. There should have been ten times as many hands on deck.

'Pazel,' said Thasha, her voice gone deadly cold, 'that's the whirlpool from my dream. The one I've been having since Etherhorde.'

'Of course it is,' he said. 'You've been dreaming about the Vortex.'

'But I didn't just imagine it,' said Thasha. 'I saw it, perfectly. It's exactly exactly the same.' the same.'

Pazel looked at her with alarm. She had changed before his eyes. Gone was the confident thojmelee thojmelee fighter. In its place was the haunted Thasha, the one who appeared each time she read the fighter. In its place was the haunted Thasha, the one who appeared each time she read the Polylex Polylex. The one who looked inexplicably older. 'What happens in this dream?' he asked her.

Thasha closed her eyes. 'I'm striking a bargain,' she said. 'Someone wants me gone from wherever I am. And I say that I'll go, as long as they agree to leave too. Whoever it is always agrees, but at the last minute they add something to the deal. Something that makes leaving much harder. Ramachni's there, looking on - guarding me, maybe, in case there's cheating. But I still have to say yes. As soon as I do, I start moving - very fast, with no effort at all. Straight towards that whirlpool. And I think, This is how it feels, to die and remain alive This is how it feels, to die and remain alive. And just as I start to fall into the Vortex I wake up.'

She opened her eyes and smiled ruefully at him. 'I'm waiting for you to say, "You're not crazy, Thasha." '

Pazel said nothing. He was trying to think of better, more comforting words. Whether or not he still fully believed in her sanity hardly mattered. Thasha stared, clearly upset by his hesitation.

Then Uskins appeared, barrelling around the starboard longboat. He was hysterical. He did not appear to be wounded, but his eyes had a wild light in them, and his face was red. He skidded to a halt before them and screamed.

'Muketch! Girl! Don't stand there, grab a line! Get forwards, to Lapwing's team on the port halyard! Run, blast you, we need everyone we've got!'

Pazel and Thasha did as they were told, if only to get away from Uskins. As they ran, Pazel became aware of a new sound, distant but immensely powerful. A sound that was neither wind nor waves. It made him think of a t.i.tanic millstone: inexorable, grinding. It was the sound of the Vortex.

'You're all right, Thasha,' he huffed as they ran, 'it's the world outside your head that's gone mad.'

Thasha burst out laughing: 'Thanks, I feel much much better.' better.'

'Don't mention it.'

She was so perversely amused that he couldn't help joining in her laughter. He wished he could stop right there, kiss her full on the lips.

'There's Neeps!' cried Thasha suddenly, pointing. He was halfway up the mainmast, a good hundred feet above the deck, working alongside a dozen sailors trying to reef the topsail. They were crawling out along the yard, fighting the wayward canvas, not looking down.

'They need more men for that job, don't they?' Thasha asked.

'You're d.a.m.n right,' said Pazel. 'Twice as many, and hands on the halyards. Come on, let's help. Maybe together we can pull it off.'

They ran to the port rail, swung out to the great mainmast shrouds, and began the ascent. They were both sure-footed climbers: what Thasha lacked in experience she made up for in strength. But as they rose, so did the wind, quite suddenly in fact. Pazel, already exhausted by blows and blood loss, found he had to slow and catch his breath. 'I'm dizzy,' he said.

'What?' she shouted.

'DIZZY.'.

How the men on the topsail yard could hear a thing he had no idea. At last Neeps saw them, and his face glowed with relief. He beckoned urgently. Hurry up! Hurry up!

Pazel resumed the climb. They pa.s.sed the t.i.tanic main yard, that vast tree lashed horizontally above the ship, and for a few minutes the broad platform of the fighting top cut off their view of Neeps and the sailors. He could just hear them, though: it sounded as though Neeps was shouting his name. 'I'm coming, mate, I don't have blary wings,' he muttered testily.

They reached the fighting top, and Pazel squeezed up deftly through the climbing hole. The wind was momentarily blocked. Suddenly he could hear Neeps and all the others above him. They were screaming.

'No! No! No! Look out! Turn around!'

Pazel twisted, looking wildly everywhere for the source of their fear. Left, right, out, down-- Down.

The rats had broken out onto the topdeck. The s.p.a.ce around the mainmast was thick with their squirming bodies. And a dozen or more were clawing straight up the wooden pillar towards them, salivating. 'Mine!' they screeched. 'Angel! Heaven! Kill!'

Pitfire, thought Pazel, they were five decks below! they were five decks below!

Everything happened quickly. Pazel and Thasha could not descend, and to climb higher would have been sheer madness. The only possible choice was to make a stand on the fighting top. 'Don't slash,' Thasha shouted in his ear. 'Lunge. Thrust. If you let 'em get in close they'll tear you to bits.'

Scarcely had the words left her mouth when the first rats came boiling up from the hole. Pazel was starkly terrified. He had fought them one-on-one with the crowbar, but now there were three on him at once, and a pitching mast, and sixty feet between him and the deck. He stabbed, kicked at their faces and bellies, managing only to stay alive as Thasha killed and killed. More than once she skewered a rat through the neck or chest just as it drove its four-inch teeth past his defences. She was protecting them both, he knew, and the thought enraged him. Focus Focus. He groped for an edge, for the speed required to know what those teeth and claws were doing before the creature he fought knew the same about his sword. It was possible, with fury it was possible. There, and there. there.

Neeps and the sailors climbed down to join the battle. With them, Pazel realised, was one other tarboy: Jervik. As he dropped onto the platform he caught Pazel's eye. 'Yaarh, Muketch! Now yer fightin' like a man!'

He dived into the fray, brandishing the knife he considered 'rusty trash,' throwing the rats' curses back at them. He had none of Thasha's finesse, but he did have speed and muscle, and a furious instinct for battle. Yet even with the reinforcements the fight seemed endless. The rats kept coming, in a foul geyser of teeth and claws and fur. Everything was red: their eyes, Pazel's arms, the light from the soundless storm. What was happening below Pazel didn't dare imagine.

But a moment came at last when he killed a rat and no creature took its place. Thasha stabbed a grizzle-jawed beast on his right; Jervik kicked a third to its death. And then there were no more.

They looked down. Turachs and sailors once more held the deck, which from where he stood resembled the floor of a slaughterhouse. Big Skip was hurriedly climbing the shrouds.

'The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds wormed their way up a light-shaft, got round behind us!' he boomed. 'Come down, lads, the fighting's nearly done. Just the hold to take back now.'

There were muttered thanks to Rin. 'We still have to set that muckin' sail,' said Jervik, glancing hastily at the Vortex.

Pazel sighed. 'Right. Let's do it, then.'

'I never found Marila,' said Neeps. 'Uskins nabbed me the minute I came outside.'

'She's dead, I reckon,' said Jervik bluntly. 'I saw what them rats--Eh! Crawly! Crawly!'

He was shouting, pointing at a spot in the topmast shrouds, about eight feet from them. There in his swallow-suit, looking very small and harried in the wind, clung Taliktrum.

They hushed Jervik with some difficulty. The ixchel man watched, clearly impatient. 'You should get down from the rigging,' he said at last, bending his voice so they all could hear.

'We've got a job to do,' said Neeps. 'What do you want?'

'Do the job later,' said Taliktrum. 'Right now you must all get down. We don't mean to kill you.'

'Kill us, is it?' growled Jervik. 'Like to see him try, the little louse!'

'Diadrelu revealed our presence to so many of you, you understand?' said Taliktrum. 'She left me no choice. I had to act before Rose killed us. And I was right, wasn't I? Even now he's getting ready to poison the hold.'

'What are you saying?' Pazel demanded. 'What do you have to do?' do you have to do?'

'Seize the ship,' said Taliktrum.

At that very moment a man above them gave a shrill cry. The crowd on the fighting top jumped and cried out: a body had snagged in the rigging, five feet from them. It was one of the sailors who had not helped with the fight. The arm that had caught in the rigging was wrenched at an unnatural angle.

Thasha was closest, and carefully edged nearer. 'He's still breathing,' she said. 'He's . . . asleep asleep !' !'

Pazel looked down again. His eyes landed first on Big Skip: the carpenter's mate was dangling, arms and legs through the shrouds, head lolled to one side. On the deck, a Turach was slapping a fellow soldier hard in the face. Beside them Mr Uskins was pumping his fist, screaming at a midshipman. But even as Pazel watched, the sailor stumbled, raised a hand to his forehead, and slid languidly to the boards.